


Anniversary

by autumnyte



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Anniversary, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sappy, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnyte/pseuds/autumnyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Fluff Friday on tumblr. A snapshot of Hawke and Fenris on the one-year anniversary of their reconciliation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anniversary

“Fenris? Are you home?” Hawke’s voice echoed through the dark, dusty mansion. Hearing no answer, he entered further and climbed the staircase to the second floor, the rickety wood beneath his feet creaking with every step. He called out for Fenris again at the landing, then peered inside several rooms, but the place appeared truly empty.

“Maker’s hairy balls.” Hawke dragged a gauntleted hand through his hair and sighed. “Of all the days for him to up and disappear.” He took one final look inside Fenris’s bedroom—as if the elf might have somehow been lost behind a particularly wide piece of furniture—before turning around and slinking back down the stairs.

He had already searched the Hanged Man, where Fenris could typically be found playing Wicked Grace on such evenings, rarely missing a week. But Varric and Isabela claimed not to have seen him all afternoon, and Hawke had found no sign of him anywhere in Lowtown.

While Hawke searched, night had fallen in earnest. He steeled himself against the biting chill as he stepped outside Fenris’s mansion and into the dimly lit Hightown street. Brisk strides carried him toward his own estate. He held on to a spark of hope that perhaps Fenris would seek him out there.

As the frigid air seeped through the tiny gaps in his armor and stung his skin, Hawke contemplated how much he used to detest this time of year. He had always hated the dreary cold, the long nights, the post-Wintersend lull. But he would never be able to think of the season in strictly those terms again. Moving forward, winter would primarily remind him of a single thing—today’s date, the 14th of Guardian. It was the day that he and Fenris had rekindled their dormant romance, exactly one year prior.

He hadn’t mentioned the anniversary to Fenris, a fact for which he now felt like kicking himself. Why was he was still so cautious about appearing overly sentimental? He should have made firm plans.

“We’re together and we’re happy, that’s what matters. Not an arbitrary date,” Hawke muttered, as he entered the warmth of his estate and hastily shut the door behind himself. He tossed his daggers and gauntlets atop a storage chest and glanced around the main hall. His mabari, Chomper, who was stretched out lazily in front of the hearth, was the only one there to greet him. It was not much of a greeting. Chomper regarded him with a quirked ear and an expression of passing curiosity before returning sleepily to his paws.

“Please, don’t get up on my account. Lazy bum.” Hawke rolled his eyes, but crouched down and gave the hound an affectionate pat on the head.

Just then, Bodahn appeared, panting and sweating, clearly having dashed over from the servants’ wing upon hearing Hawke enter. “Ah… Messere, you’ve returned. I… wasn’t certain whether to expect you.” The dwarf doubled over for a moment, clutching his knees and attempting to catch his breath.

Hawke straightened and folded his arms across his chest. “Bodahn, you didn’t need to rush out here on my account. Only run if you’re being chased by something big and scary. That’s my policy.”

Bodahn’s features remained impassive, not acknowledging Hawke’s attempt at mirth. “I came as quickly as I could, Messere. Thought I should make you aware that Messere Fenris is waiting in your study. He… has been here for quite some time. I mentioned that I didn’t know when you might return, but he insisted upon remaining. You’ve always said to treat him as a member of the household, so I assumed it was all right.”

“Fenris is here?” Hawke’s voice quivered ever-so-slightly. There was a sudden, giddy lightness in his chest. “Of course it’s all right. That’s… good. Thank you.” He clapped Bodahn cheerily on the shoulder and headed toward his study.

As he entered the room, his footsteps stilled at the unexpected sight he encountered. A warm smile touched his lips. Fenris had fallen asleep in a large armchair by the fireplace. Quietly, Hawke stepped closer, until he was standing directly beside the chair. It wasn’t often that he got to watch the other man sleep. Although they frequently spent the night together, Fenris had a habit—an intentional one, Hawke suspected—of drifting off last and awakening first.

Hawke gazed down, studying Fenris. The elf had removed his armor, and was wearing only his leathers and a tunic. His head was tipped back against the chair and his normally immaculate white hair was disheveled, completely covering his right eye. His mouth had fallen open and a thin line of saliva dribbled down to the lyrium markings on his chin. His chest was rising and falling with soft, steady breaths. There was a large book open, face-down, on his lap.

Hawke’s throat tightened at seeing Fenris so unguarded, so peaceful. A year ago, it had been a challenge to convince Fenris to sleep at the estate at all. The difference was appreciable. He bent down to read the title on the spine of the book, expecting to find something historical or linguistic. He barely stifled a chuckle upon discovering that it was one of Isabela’s naughty books: _Leather to Feather: Crossroads of Form_. Fenris appeared to be about halfway through the volume.

Reflexively, Hawke reached out to touch his lover, gently smoothing his fingers through those thick, familiar locks of hair. He regretted it immediately. The touch woke Fenris, causing him to bolt upright with a sharp intake of breath. His eyes widened, looking panicked for a brief instant, but his expression softened as soon as his gaze landed on Hawke.

Fenris relaxed his shoulders and glanced down at the book on his lap, offering a sheepish smirk before setting it aside. He rose from the chair and cleared his throat. “I was merely… passing the time.”

Hawke laughed and stepped forward, taking hold of Fenris’s hand. He sighed as long, slender fingers laced through his own. “I’m sorry you waited so long. I didn’t expect to find you here. Since it’s Wicked Grace night, I figured… I went to the Hanged Man and then to your mansion looking for you.”

Fenris spoke low, his voice still thick with sleep. ”Ah. I decided to pass on Wicked Grace tonight. I thought that perhaps you would wish to spend the evening… together.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?” Hawke teased, leaning forward until his forehead was resting against Fenris’s.

“Must there be a particular reason?” Fenris’s expression was playful, but there was a nervous lilt to his tone. Hawke knew this game well. Fenris needed to hear him say it first, and he was all right with that.

“Today marks precisely one year since I became the luckiest man in Kirkwall.” He smiled and released Fenris’s hand in order to wrap both arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember the date. I should have known better.”

Fenris gazed intently into Hawke’s eyes and circled both arms around his neck. “When one has a relative lack of memories, one tends to remember events even more clearly. Particularly good ones.” He brushed his lips against Hawke’s and whispered, “that day… happens to be one of the best.”

Tightening the embrace, Hawke kissed Fenris tenderly, tongue parting his lips and sliding gently inside, reveling in the familiar warmth of his mouth. He pulled back after several moments with a pleasantly dazed look. “What shall we do this evening? I could have Orana prepare an elaborate meal for us.”

Fenris shook his head, lightly grazing his fingernails against the back of Hawke’s neck. “I am decidedly not hungry… for _food_.”

Hawke couldn’t suppress a shiver at the suggestive words and the deep rumble of Fenris’s voice. “Game of Diamondback, then?” he asked, ridiculously.

“Hmm. That is not the sort of game I had in mind.” Fenris smirked, then peppered light kisses along Hawke’s neck.

"Well." Hawke let out a shaky breath. “What… uh… did you have in mind?”

“You recall the evening we shared one year ago?”

“ _Vividly._ ”

“I thought perhaps we could relive it.” Fenris’s fingertips drifted down Hawke’s back. “In honor of the occasion, we could... repeat it precisely, every action and detail.”

Hawke’s eyes widened, his skin prickling with heat at the recollection. “A-all of it? Even the—”

“Yes. _Especially_ that.” Fenris drew Hawke into another kiss.

The two men remained locked in an embrace for some time. As Hawke felt the warmth of Fenris’s body and the roaring fire beside them, he flashed back to that day one year prior. He recalled Fenris’s unexpected, heartfelt words and how they’d changed his life, permanently and for the better. He remembered the intensity of the kiss they shared in Fenris’s mansion, while standing in front of a similar fire. And he thought of all the kisses they’d exchanged since then, each one sweeter than the last.

Pulling back, slightly out of breath, Hawke lifted a hand to stroke Fenris’s cheek. He spoke softly, words he knew he didn’t say often enough. “Fenris, I hope… I want many more years like this. With you.”

Fenris rewarded him with a smile, every bit as peaceful and unguarded as he had looked earlier. “That is my wish, as well.”


End file.
